


scene select.

by overlordy



Series: control. [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Frisk POV, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Reader Is Frisk, Sans Needs A Hug, Sign Language, Spoilers, Suicide, exploring the past through a series of VHS tapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5207699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overlordy/pseuds/overlordy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisk finds a series of tapes in Sans's hidden workshop. Who is- or was- W. D. Gaster, and what does he mean to Sans?</p>
            </blockquote>





	scene select.

**Author's Note:**

> i am sanster garbage  
> this is sort of a prequel/sequel to my fic replay, but you don't have to read that to understand this.

A door, tucked neatly behind the cozy home of two skeletal brothers, looms ominously before you. You feel the metal key in your hand, dense with layer upon layer of secrets, all kept tucked away by this discreet, innocuous door.

The key slides into the lock, and with a soft click the door swings open.

You gaze upon the room with purple tiled floors and sea green walls. It seems out of place, like it would fit better at Alphys’s laboratory. The room is spotless- which is a surprise, knowing the state of Sans’s bedroom- and completely free of dust. You walk forward and your footsteps echo, despite the room being small. At the end of the long room looms a hunkering figure, almost brushing the ceiling, and hidden by a purple curtain. You stare at it for a moment and your hand itches to rip away the cover and see just what, exactly, Sans has been hiding from you, but you force yourself to turn away.

Always save the biggest present for last.

A counter is tucked snugly into the left side of the room. Lining it are multiple drawers, all labeled in some odd looking… language? Handwriting? Whatever it is, you can’t discern it. A blueprint rests atop the counter, detailing some complicated machine. You cast an inquisitive glance to the… whatever it is hidden by the curtain. You want to know more, but the blueprints are written with the same strange symbols.

Frustrated by your fruitless investigation, you wrench open one of the drawers. Inside rests a multitude of photographs, all yellowing and frayed, but obviously well loved. You peer down at one in particular, and with careful hands lift it out of the drawer. Sans stands with a group of other people, none of whom you are able to recognize, but one detail stands out the most to you. He looks… happy. The lights of his eyes shine brightly at the camera and his smile seems genuine, like he’s smiling for himself, and not for the sake of others. Heart squeezing, you replace the photo as gently as physically possible and slide the drawer closed with more care. The next drawer holds a badge, which shines in the dim light. You can almost picture skeletal fingers running over it with… what, sadness? Nostalgia? Happiness? You shake your head, and slide that closed, too.

Just _what_ does this all mean? Sans has hidden this from everyone he knows, it seems, but _why?_ The importance of everything in this room, from the cold tiles to the fluttery curtain, weighs on your shoulders. Puzzled, you sigh and lean against the counter. Your lower black presses against something hard and you jump away as a loud _click_ echoes in the room. You watch as a third drawer slides open with a soft hiss of steam. It must contain something priceless, if the hidden button is anything to go by.

You peek inside and your eyebrows shoot up as row upon row of tapes stare up at you. They’re all neatly stacked and labeled with the same strange symbols, but you’re thankful to recognize at least something.

_1/20/198X_

Curiosity burns in you, and a little voice whispers a phrase involving a very unfortunate feline, but you can’t just let this particular mystery go unsolved. You need to know what happened. You need to know what tragedy caused the mirth to disappear from your dear friend’s eyes, to make his smile strained and weathered.

As you gather the tapes into your inventory and the multidimensional boxes, you’re filled with DETERMINATION.

-

You sit on the dusty floor of Alphys’s old laboratory, a pile of tapes stacked neatly in front of you. It’s strangely quiet, and the thought of what transpired here long ago makes you shudder, but this is the only place with a functioning tape player that you could think of. You pluck up the first tape and slide it gently into the slot. Might as well start from the beginning.

You ignore the sensation of eyes on you as the screen fills with static, then plays.

You’re greeted by a skeleton in a turtleneck and a lab coat. You don’t recognize him as either of the skeleton brothers, so you sit back and watch as he adjusts the camera and sits forward in his chair. As he smiles, you recall him from Sans’s drawer of old photos. He had seemed to be a constant presence in your friend’s happy memories.

_Log 1 of Project Tock, conducted by Dr. W.D. Gaster. The date is January 20th, 198X. Time, 12:41 PM, just after lunch._

He speaks in sign language. You’re surprised, but it explains where Sans had learned it from. It seems everyone in the Underground knows how to sign. It certainly made your time here less of a struggle.

_After the completion of the Core, I found myself with little to do. The Underground is content with their current state and endless supply of thermonuclear energy, and requires no more groundbreaking scientific discoveries for the moment._

_I have been growing… restless, I think. Jittery. I don’t know what to do with myself, since what is a scientist without… well, science? In any manner, Sans, one of my lab assistants, made a quite funny joke about having plenty of time to do nothing, now that the Core has been completed, and that innocent statement brought me to a risky, but brilliant epiphany._

_Monsterkind has always fantasized about time travel, being able to go forward and back to change and alter the flow of time. The idea seems risky, but I think with the energy supplied from the Core, I think we just might be able to pull it off. I have gathered a team of my most trusted assistants, and we will begin today, after I complete this log. Sans suggested I keep track of the days of the experiment, in case it succeeds and time becomes a little warped. I had some spare tapes lying around, so I supposed…_

_I do not have much time left on this tape. Dr. W.D. Gaster, signing off._

_...That sounds ridiculous, do people actually say that?_

You hear a deep, familiar chuckle in reply before the video ends. You reach forward and eject the tape from its compartment. It rests in your hands and radiates warmth.

You’d never heard of Dr. Gaster before this, which sticks out to you as something unusual. You would think someone would mention the man who built the Core to you. The only conclusion you can reach is that something horrible must have happened. Determined, you reach once more for the stack.

You wish you had some popcorn.

-

Ten tapes and three hours later, you fight to keep yourself awake. At first, the tapes were merely a log of Gaster’s experiment, as he said. It held your attention for the first three tapes, time travel is extremely fascinating, but you never had an affinity for science and you quickly began to lose interest after the fifth or sixth round of inventory.

The eleventh tape, however, offers something different. It begins like every other tape in the growing pile of watched ones beside you, with Gaster recounting the date and time. While he talks animatedly about his team’s growing hypothesis, a door over his left shoulder creaks open.

_oh, whoops. sorry, doc, didn’t realize you’d started loggin’ already._

Sans, in all of his bony glory, stands in the doorway. He’s wearing a wrinkled lab coat which is just a little too big for him and you giggle at the sight of him wearing something other than his signature hoodie. Closer inspection leads you to discover that he’s wearing his hoodie beneath the lab coat. He appears so official, a look you never thought you'd see him in, but somehow, it suits him. Gaster turns in his chair and smiles, beckoning Sans over with the crook of his finger.

_It is no trouble at all, Sans._ He signs as Sans comes up beside Gaster and peers into the camera. His eyes shine brightly enough that you notice even in the low-quality video. He’s happier there, in the past, with Dr. Gaster.

_alrighty then, doc. what’s the scoop?_

_Well, since you have been promoted to my personal assistant, I figured you could help me record my logs._

_i dunno… it seems like a_ log _of work._

You and Gaster groan simultaneously. It comforts you, knowing that even then Sans cracked horrible puns.

_Please spare me, you jokester. I thought we placed a permanent ban on puns in the workspace after one of your jokes caused Hillary to catch one of her wings on fire._

_you can’t put a damper on genius, doc._

_Well… I suppose you do have a point. Try not to be too distracting, alright?_

_can do._

The next five minutes of the tape- they’ve steadily been getting longer, they must have gotten better tapes- are filled with Sans displaying rough drafts of a machine they planned to the camera, with Gaster explaining the details in rapid sign language. You’ve never seen someone’s hands move that fast, and it’s a little dizzying to keep up with, but Gaster seems far more energized with Sans there to help him.

_uh, hey doc?_

_Yes, Sans?_

_papyrus said he wants to meet you. real insistent, in fact._

_Your brother?_

_yeah._

_Hmm… Well, I suppose he could stop by during lunch tomorrow._

_yeah, but, i- he was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner. he started learning how to cook last week, undyne’s teaching him, and all he knows is spaghetti and it’s not completely edible yet, but there’s this good diner down the road too-_

_Sans?_

_huh??_

_I would love to have dinner with you and your brother._

Sans’s cheeks flush- how? He’s a skeleton!- and he nods, shuffling out the door. Gaster turns to the camera with a good-natured chuckle and shakes his head.

_He thinks I don’t know._

The video ends, leaving you staring, perplexed, at the screen. Sans… having a crush on someone? It’s glaringly obvious, even for someone your age, and you had been with Alphys enough times to recognize when another person liked someone very much. Suddenly the collection of videos seems outrageously private, and you almost end your snooping there, but your curiosity wins out and you pick up another.

-

Sans becomes a constant presence in each tape onward. He only appears for a few brief moments to hand Gaster a file, a tupperware container of spaghetti- Gaster accepts them, and to his credit at least _tries_ to eat the pasta- or some sort of intricate mechanism that they converse about in detail. You can't wrap your head around the science of an electromagnetic whatchamacallit, but you continue to pay rapt attention to the two skeletons on the faded screen.

On the seventeenth tape, Gaster and Sans are in a deep discussion about the functionality of a simple stopwatch, when you notice they've been unconsciously moving closer together. Incidentally, Sans notices too, and makes a hasty retreat to the other side of the desk, just slightly out of frame.

_What are you doing over there?_

_oh, nothing, just thought you should take over, doc. i don't wanna get in your ‘waves', haha._

_…_

_y’know, like frequency- and way-_

_That was quite a reach, Sans._

_yeah, i kn- what are you doing._

Gaster had reached across the desk and taken Sans’s bony hand in his own. He smiles knowingly and with his free hand, signs one word.

_Reach._

Sans’s cheeks turn a curious shade of blue- you wonder once more at how a skeleton can blush- before he erupts into explosive laughter. The camera rattles as he slams his fist against the table in uncontrollable mirth. Gaster steadies his equipment. They're still holding hands.

-

Thirty tapes in. You check the time on your cell phone and see it’s extremely late in the evening. Luckily the tapes have dwindled in number, until there’s a only a handful left. You scrub furiously at your face with your hands and fight away the heaviness growing in your eyelids. Just a few more tapes, and you can rest. First, you _have_ to know what happened. You’re in too deep to stop now. Tape number thirty-one goes in. Almost there.

_We have succeeded! After nearly two years of hard work and perseverance, my team and I have created a machine that can detect and record different time anomalies, and single out timelines! It’s all very fascinating, and His Highness is impressed with our work._

_I have released my team early today. They are all satisfied with their accomplishments, and I’m sure their families are proud as well._

_We’ve experienced slight losses of time and calendar scrambling, but-_

_doc? what’re you still doing here?_

_Sans, I just want to stay and monitor the machine._

_pff, everyone else gets to go home, and you don’t? no way, gaster. you’re comin’ home with me and we are going to throw the biggest science party this world has ever seen. it’ll be silicon, carbon, and potassium._

_...Si-c-k?_

_heh, yep._

_Periodic puns aside, I suppose I can make time for celebration. If you will have me._

_wouldn’t have invited ya otherwise._

_You are too kind, Sans._

_nah, just lookin’ out for my pal._

Gaster smiles and leans in close. Your face heats up and you press the stop button as quickly as you can. You don’t need to see that.

-

The pile of unwatched tapes shrinks down to one. All had been reports on the status of the machine- functioning well and as expected, with no one erased from time-space. Nothing bad happened, bad enough to warrant Sans hiding all of this stuff from his friends- at least, from you, and when you think about it, what business do you have going through his precious memories? You clear your head of doubt, too late to turn back now, and reach with gentle hands for the last tape.

You slip the final tape into the player.

Your hands fly over your ears as the television emits a blood-curdling screech. You fall onto the floor and hold your head as your ears sting with the intensity of the sudden noise, desperately you reach out and slam against the top of the VHS player with your fist. The machine coughs up smoke, but the shrieking sputters out and dies, leaving you with ringing ears.

You stare at the box as it sparks and dread sinks into you. How could you watch the tape _now?_ You’d never know what happened, Sans’s past would remain an unsolved mystery-

The television screen flickers, and comes to life. Your frustration dims into silence as you stare in awe and apprehension at the image of Dr. Gaster.

Immediately, you notice something wrong. The lights of his eyes dart around nervously, his office is dark and in a state of disrepair. His usually neatly organized desk is cluttered with blueprints and scribbled-out papers. His symbols are scattered about in random intervals along the walls of his office. Everything seemed fine in the last tape; Gaster seemed content with his machine and Sans and all of his fellow scientists. You ponder what inspired such a drastic change.

Gaster lifts his hands. They tremble violently as he signs to the camera.

_I do not have much time. Our reports showed a massive anomaly in the timespace continuum, timelines jumping left and right, stopping and starting, until suddenly, everything ends._

_I explored further into these anomalies and discovered something…_

His hands pause and he stares down at his desk with a haunted look in his eyes. _A child, and a knife, and so much dust. The machine is too dangerous. This knowledge is too much for one man to handle._

Gaster’s shoulders shake violently and he lets out a choked sob, the noise rattling in his throat after years of disuse.

_I must destroy it. This is probably my last log. Project Tock is being halted indefinitely._

_...Sans. I’m sor-r-r **yyyyyyy**_

You jump back as the video warps and distorts, contorting Gaster’s grief-stricken face into perplexing shapes and colors, then turns black. Static echoes in your ears as you blink at the screen. The tape must have ended there. Funny, you could have sworn there was more on the-

SNOOPING ARE WE?

CHILDREN LIKE YOU SHOULD KEEP THEIR NOSE OUT OF OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESS.

I SEE YOU THERE, FRISK. I KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE DONE. I AM DISAPPOINTED. BUT I CAN DETECT YOUR INTENTIONS. I CAN SEE YOU. I SEE CLEARLY. IT IS DARK, BUT MY VISION IS PERFECT. PERHAPS THERE IS STILL YET HOPE FOR SOMEONE LIKE YOU.

DO NOT WORRY, CHILD. SANS SHALL EXPLAIN EVERYTHING.

OH, AND GIVE HIM A HUG FOR ME.

You shake your head furiously to clear your mind of creeping darkness and your ears of deafening static. You blink to clear your vision of the symbols that burned into your retinas. A glance at the television shows a blank screen.

Dread settling in your stomach, you cautiously eject the tape. The VHS player spits it out along with a billow of smoke. You stare at the poor machine in guilt as you remove the tape, which has nary a scratch on its surface. You place it at the top of the pile of viewed videos. You scoot back from the tapes and hug your knees to your chest, brow furrowed. You had no idea what those symbols meant, but you had a feeling something was trying to communicate.

Or… someone?

**“B e e n  b u s y,  k i d?”**

Sans’s voice barely surprises you. You hide your face against your knees, unwilling to confront him. Guilt gnaws at you for snooping. Pity also worms around, knowing what he’s been through.

What he’s lost.

You hear the familiar rustle of his jacket and creak of his bones as he sits beside you, close enough that you feel his shoulder brush against yours. You know he isn’t mad. It shocks you out of you hiding and you chance an anxious glance at him. He smiles, his eyes trained on you, but not _looking_ at you. You know he’s remembering.

He sighs. “gaster threw himself into the Core after he destroyed his machine. he couldn’t handle what he saw. a lot of people think- thought- that he tripped, and it was an accident, but…” He chuckles and the noise is so unbelievably wracked with grief that you unconsciously place your hand over his. Instead of shying away from you, he laces your fingers together.

“the Core was, um, too powerful. it literally erased him from history, and he was scattered across time and space. he’s… gone, but not really.” He glances at you and your gazes lock. “i can tell you’ve seen him.”

A gray door, a dark figure hunched and sorrowful. The memory comes to you violently and you shiver. You don’t remember ever encountering such a thing. It almost feels like a dream.

“You aren’t mad?” You sign tentatively. Sans shakes his head.

“i gave you the key, kid. i kinda had a feeling… you would understand better than anyone else.”

You nod and avert your gaze down to the dusty ground. There’s one clear spot where you had been sitting for approximately ten hours. Sans squeezes your hand and it hovers just on the verge of painful, but you make no protest as he shivers.

“Does anyone else know?”

“no.”

“Papyrus?”

“nah, i don’t wanna worry him. it’s just me. it gets a little bonely.” Your lips twitch at the pun, but you can’t bring yourself to show more enthusiasm than that. “i just… for the longest time i couldn’t remember him, and then when i did all i had were these tapes and a few pictures to piece it all together. it’s all i have left of him.”

“Not your fault.”

“sure feels like it. like i could have done something, helped him in any way, but i was too powerless.”

You spot a tear trickle out of his eye socket. The hand that isn’t laced with yours raises and signs something that makes your heart drop and your very Soul ache.

_I love him._

You bite your lip to fight back your own tears as you clutch at his sleeve and pull him into your arms. You embrace him tightly, as requested, as he sobs into your shoulder.

You ignore the feeling of eyes on you.


End file.
